


you're not unique in dying

by clarkethequeen (amyandrorywilliams)



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, F/F, Hunger Games AU, chgau, the one where everyone dies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-17
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-23 08:06:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3760885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amyandrorywilliams/pseuds/clarkethequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura is the Head Peacekeeper’s daughter, who’s Reaped as a fluke. Carmilla is a Career Tribute, trained her entire life to win the Games. When they get thrown into the arena, alliances are struck and something blossoms between them. But it’s the Games. There can only be one winner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you're not unique in dying

When the trumpets blasted in proclamation of her victory, Laura mistook the sound for cannons. She held the bloody rock out in front of her like a knife, ready to kill anyone and everyone who appeared. Her face was smeared with dirt and caked blood. Any remnant of humanity in her was long gone, and her eyes were wild, like an animal.

She clutched the rock like a lifeline, like it would bring back what she lost. She wanted to punish someone, but everyone was dead and she was the only one left. She clenched the rock so tightly it cut into her skin, but the pain didn't bother her. She was already so overwhelmed with grief she didn't feel real anymore.

A voice boomed from above, “Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present the winner of the 56th annual Hunger Games, Laura Hollis.”

The words didn't make sense to her. What was happening now, it could not be winning.

There was a violent ache in her chest that felt like it was tearing her apart, and the body of the girl she loved was still warm. Her friends had been massacred like sheep, and she had done nothing to stop it. There had been no way to stop it, it was inevitable. The Games had emptied out her insides, and she had nothing left. Nothing but rage and pain.  

Laura was so weary she could feel it in her bones. She wanted to lie down in the dirt where she belonged; curl up next to Carmilla and never wake up. How nice it would be to stay still forever with her.

Even when she was escorted out of the arena, Laura felt like she never really left.

* * *

 

Laura Hollis overslept on the day of the Reaping.

That’s why she was in the back when her name was called.

At first, she didn't move. She wasn't sure she heard correctly, and it was only once her name was repeated several times she started towards the stage. Eyes followed her as she shuffled forward, and most of them were full of pity. Laura was the sweet girl; the Head Peacekeeper’s daughter who would stitch up your wounds for free. When she was dead they’d have to find someone else.

It took Laura a moment to find the stairs, and a Peacekeeper eventually helped her up. She almost tripped but he steadied her before she could make a fool of herself on live television. She didn’t recognize him with his mask on, but he squeezed her hand before he let go. It wasn’t her father, he was somewhere in the crowd; but the Peacekeeper knew who she was. He was wishing her luck, or maybe lending her some of his strength.

She knew she should feel afraid, but she didn’t. She was just confused, and a little hungry. She had missed breakfast, and all she had for dinner the previous night was a cookie.

What was happening to her hadn’t fully processed yet, and she found herself thinking about the last of the cookies in her pantry. Sweets were a luxury in District 8, but her father knew she loved them, and so he always bought her a box a year for her birthday. Her birthday had been two months ago, and she had been rationing them out to last as long as possible. What would happen to them without her? Her dad wouldn’t eat them; he didn’t have much of a sweet tooth. Maybe he’d give them to a kid; someone who’s never tried chocolate before.

The thought of leaving her father was too bizarre, and so she tried to focus on something else. Unfortunately, that only other something else involved the fact that she had just been Reaped.

The Capitol escort read off the boy tribute's name, but she didn’t hear it because she found her father. He was pressed against the stage, looking up at her with such anguish that the reality of her situation finally sunk in. She was going to be a tribute in the Hunger Games.

She was going to die.

She knew she should feel upset or terrified but it seemed unreal. What was real at that moment was her upset father. She wanted to comfort him, but she couldn't move from the stage. As she met his eyes the grief faded, and he gave her a reassuring smile that she buoyed herself to. He was smiling; it was all going to be fine.

Laura kept telling herself that as she shook hands with the male tribute. She didn’t recognize him, which was a good thing. His handshake was weak, and he looked as if he was going to fall over. He was young, maybe about fourteen, and his complexion was pasty. He must have worked in the factory before he was reaped. Factory workers were often made sick by all the fumes, and this boy had definitely been affected. She had never had to suffer such conditions, as the Head Peacekeeper's daughter, but now things like class didn’t matter. The Hunger Games was the great equalizer. They would both either come back in a body bag, or as a champion.

_Everything is going to be fine._

Her father grabbed a hold of her hand the moment she stepped off the stage. He clenched it so tightly it hurt, but she was still numb and she couldn’t speak. He led her to the Justice Building, a massive white building which made her feel tiny and insignificant. He didn’t speak the entire time, and she wanted to fill the silence with words but his expression stopped her.

As soon as the door slammed behind them, Laura’s Dad had his arms around her. He was a big man, and she felt like a child again wrapped in his embrace. Her determination not to cry shattered, and all of a sudden tears were running down her face. She knew her eyes were going to be red and the whole world would know she’d been crying, but she couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment.

Her dad pulled away too soon, trying hard to be stoic. His jaw was clenched, and he wiped away her tears before he spoke. “Don’t count yourself out. You know how to fight, and you know how sew up a wound. You’re friendly, and people will underestimate that. Make allies, get people to trust you. But Laura, you can’t get attached. Everything in there is a lie. That’s what happened to your mother, she got attached and…” He broke off, overcome by emotion.

They didn’t talk about her mother much. It had happened years ago, but the pain still felt fresh. She knew she died in the 40th Games, only a month after she had given birth to Laura. Her mom had been eighteen, a brand new mother, and a trainee healer. The whole of District 8 was outraged that such a girl had been sentenced to her death, but what could they do? They were powerless, and for every innocent kid sent to their death, that meant one more year of security for the rest.  

Whenever she asked about her mother, everyone said she had been the kindest soul in Panem. She was always chatting, and would help anyone with their problems if they asked nicely. In the end, it was what killed her. There was no room for kindness in the Games.

After a moment her father went on, “You’re going to come back Laura. And when you do I’m going to chew you out for being late to the Reaping, don’t think I didn’t notice.”

That brought the flicker of a smile to Laura’s face, but it died almost instantly. She replied, “I will.”

The promise felt heavy once it left her lips and Laura knew it was a lie. Sure, she could fight. Her father was a Peacekeeper; he taught her everything he knew. But punching a training dummy was different than slitting another kid’s throat. Stuffing was different than flesh and blood. Laura didn’t think she had it in her to take someone’s life, even if it meant her own death.

Her father could tell she was lying, and his face became dead serious. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Laura. You’re going to come back. That’s an order.” His calm façade was quaking, and Laura wondered how truthful he was being with her. Did he honestly think she could be the victor? That she could kill, or even outlast twenty-three other kids; some of which would be trained killers? Laura was a tiny, uncoordinated, teenage girl. The last winner had been a massive Career Tribute from District 1. He had strangled a girl to death with his bare hands, and had personally killed almost half of the other tributes. Her dad couldn’t think she could win against someone like that.

He was lying to himself, but maybe that wasn’t a bad idea. Maybe she should start lying to herself.

 _You can kill people. It’s easy!_ It didn’t even sound very convincing in her head. She’d have to work on that.

For her dad, she would try. This time when she nodded, it was honest. She couldn’t muster up the word, but the nod sufficed.

There was a knock on the door that warned them their time was almost up, and Laura felt the panic rising in her. She was not ready to say goodbye to him.

Her father’s voice was rushed this time. “Like I said, make allies. Get them to fight for you. When you get near the end of the Game, split off from them; let the rest of the tributes kill each other. If the Gamemakers force you into a fight, use your speed against the opponent. You know hand to hand combat, which will be good in a crunch but your best chance using a staff. You were always good with that. If you sharpen one end, you’ll have a perfectly good weapon.”

His instructions were methodical, like he had thought about them in advance. How many times had he been awoken by nightmares of her in the Games? Enough times that he had formulated a strategy.

Just as she was about to respond the door burst open, and two Peacekeepers stormed into the room. One of them placed a firm hand on Laura’s dad, “It’s time for her to go, Hollis.”

They go to forcibly remove him from the room, but he shook them off and turned back to Laura. “I’ll see you soon.” He stopped fighting, and allowed the others to drag him from the room. She memorized the way his face looked. She would need the memory of home when she was in the arena, to remind her why she wanted to come back.

“I love you, Dad.” As she was led to the train, she hoped desperately that he heard her.

 

~~~

 

Carmilla leaned back in the dining chair, absently flipping a steak knife as the train sped towards the Capitol.

The Capitol anthem played and the re-airing of the Reapings began. Will and Mother watched carefully; her mother was even taking notes, which she found hilarious. They had to be the only two people in the country excited to watch the Reapings. Even the people in the Capitol, who lived for the Games, didn’t care much about them. Once the dresses and bloodbath began, that’s when their interest was piqued.

“Tributes from District 1 seem good this year; strong, but we can bring them on our side easy. Neither of them looks too smart.” Will commented.

Carmilla took that as a golden opportunity to pipe in, “You should make fast friends of them then. You’ll have that in common.” She took a long sip of her dark red wine. It was sweeter than the stuff back home, but it was the best she had. The alcohol helped her tune out the whole scene.

She knew she was going to win the Games; she didn’t need to watch the Reaping. She saw it the first time it aired; she knew who to cozy up to and who was going to be a threat. She certainly didn’t need to hear Will’s imbecilic commentary on every single tribute.

“Nice snark, kitty. It won’t save you once we’re in the arena.” He meant it as a threat but Carmilla just laughed and started on her fourth glass of wine. She could take Will, easily. He was physically stronger, but her precision was unbeatable. She could kill him with a flick of her wrist, but she exercised self-control. Unfortunately, she needed him for the Games.

Carmilla noticed her mother twitch her fingers, and then her glass shattered. The shards scattered and she instinctively shielded her eyes. Instead of hitting her, the pieces had gone everywhere else. The wine had spilled onto the pristine tablecloth, tinting it red and making it look as if a murder had just occurred. She pivoted her head so was glancing at her mother, mildly irritated.

“Nice shot,” Carmilla admitted. “A little flashy though.”

Mother ignored her snark, and gestured for her to join them on the couch. Carmilla shook her head and reached across the table for the wine bottle. She wasn’t going to bother with a glass this time.

“I’m fine where I am.”

It was a stupid thing to do, but she was feeling restless. She was doing everything Mother wanted of her. She was sacrificing her life for the Games, in order to win their family glory. She was planning on killing twenty-three kids for that prestige, which included her own brother, in order to make them a family of victors. Somehow, it was still not good enough.

Mother stood, and crossed the space between them in two huge strides. She was one of the victors who relished their status, and if anything, had become deadlier since the arena. Carmilla felt pressure around her wrist and she was pulled roughly to her feet. Her mother was twisting her arm, and the pain was sharp and concentrated.

“You’re being childish. If you don’t take this seriously, you’ll be dead in a week. I expect you to follow my orders. I’m your mentor, in addition to your mother. If you do not, there will be consequences. Do you understand?” Her tone crushed any rebellious response Carmilla might have made.

Truth be told, her mother scared her. Carmilla’s life was going to be completely in her hands while she was in the arena. She had always been Mother’s favorite, even after the whole event with Ell. There was never any question to Carmilla about who would walk out of the Games. Even so, it would be idiotic to disobey her mother. Like everyone, her mother had a limit.

Besides, the pain in her wrist was starting to actually _hurt._

“I understand,” Carmilla affirmed. The pressure was gone from her wrist and her mother sat back onto the sofa like nothing had happened. Carmilla flexed her wrist and sunk down onto the couch. It was soft, made of the same material as her favorite reading nook back home. She wished she could have brought a book with her, and contemplated if there could be any on the train. It was unlikely, considering they were pricey and mostly illegal.

She had only noticed a couple of the tributes distinctly whilst watching the Reaping. There was a strong boy from 1, a freakishly tall red-head from District 7, and a tiny blonde girl from 8. She’d think about the rest of them later, once she had less alcohol clouding up her head.

After the Reaping replay was over, Carmilla listened to a painfully long strategy session. Mother divided the tributes into two categories; Careers and others. As they were from District 2, it would be simple to form a pack as soon as training started. That was Will’s job. He was to be the classic District 2 tribute, and form the typical Career alliance everyone would expect.

Carmilla’s role required a little more finesse. She had to win over some of the other tributes, the weaker ones who needed allies to survive. She’d present herself as an underdog, just like them, and win their trust before the Games even started. Once the Games began she’d join up with the Careers, after having learned the other tribute’s strategy and how best to kill them.

They rehashed the plan for a solid hour before the meeting was declared complete. Carmilla was finally about to leave when her Mother stopped her. Carmilla held back a groan.

“William, you can go. I’d like to talk to your sister in private.” Carmilla played it off like the conversation was a good thing, which caused Will to give her an evil look before ducking out. It killed him that mother liked her more. And in the Games, it could actually kill him.

Carmilla was now staring up at her mother in complete silence, curious to what her mother wanted. It was either something terrible, or an alteration to their plan Mother didn’t want William to know. Carmilla hoped for the latter.

“You can’t behave like you did tonight once we reach the Capitol. You have to be charming, and win over the nation. You can’t afford even a single mistake.”

“Of course,” Carmilla agreed. Why did she need to speak to her in private for that? She could have told her off in front of Will. He would have loved it.

Her mother wasn’t finished,“You’re lucky to even have this opportunity, after that stunt you pulled with Ell two years ago. A worse person might’ve had you killed along with her.”  

At the mention of Ell’s name all the anger pent up inside of Carmilla threatened to break free. Her mother had no right to mention that name. She had been the one responsible for turning Ell in. The blood was on her hands, not that that was anything new.

It was very predictable of her, in a way. She was bringing up Ell in order to remind Carmilla of her place, and that she owed her mother her life. Ell and her had been planning to run away together, and running away was punishable by a fate worse than death.  

Though she knew her mother was right, she was still furious about it. Carmilla’s hand curled into a fist, and it took all of her willpower not to sock her mother in the face. She forced herself to nod.

Her mother smiled, clearly thinking she had gotten her point across. “Goodnight, Carmilla. Try to get some rest.”

“Goodnight Mother,” she replied dutifully.

Before heading to bed Carmilla swiped the bottle of wine off the table. She knew it was the only way she was going to get any sleep tonight.

 

 

 

 


End file.
